deposits. That they were gone was clear; and the bankruptcy proceedings
which followed were like a sinister farce, bursts of laughter in a
setting of mute anguish--that of the depositors; hundreds of thousands of
them. The laughter was irresistible; the accompaniment of the bankrupt's
public examination.

I don't know if it was from utter lack of all imagination or from the
possession in undue proportion of a particular kind of it, or from
both--and the three alternatives are possible--but it was discovered that
this man who had been raised to such a height by the credulity of the
public was himself more gullible than any of his depositors. He had been
the prey of all sorts of swindlers, adventurers, visionaries and even
lunatics. Wrapping himself up in deep and imbecile secrecy he had gone
in for the most fantastic schemes: a harbour and docks on the coast of
Patagonia, quarries in Labrador--such like speculations. Fisheries to
feed a canning Factory on the banks of the Amazon was one of them. A
principality to be bought in Madagascar was another. As the grotesque
details of these incredible transactions came out one by one ripples of
laughter ran over the closely packed court--each one a little louder than
the other. The audience ended by fairly roaring under the cumulative
effect of absurdity. The Registrar laughed, the barristers laughed, the
reporters laughed, the serried ranks of the miserable depositors watching
anxiously every word, laughed like one man. They laughed
hysterically--the poor wretches--on the verge of tears.

There was only one person who remained unmoved. It was de Barral
himself. He preserved his serene, gentle expression, I am told (for I
have not witnessed those scenes myself), and looked around at the people
with an air of placid sufficiency which was the first hint to the world
of the man's overweening, unmeasurable conceit, hidden hitherto under a